


don't hold this war inside

by WishingTree



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: ACE YAZ IS VALID, Asexual Character, Asexual Yaz, F/F, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 10:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16831030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WishingTree/pseuds/WishingTree
Summary: “It’s just - I’m scared,” she finally manages.“Scared?” the Doctor stills where she’s been trying to roll up the sleeves of her coat, shoving the material of one arm over her elbow and asking, “Scared of what?”Yaz doesn’t answer, can’t answer, and the Doctor goes to reach for her, aborting the movement halfway and only managing an awkward swaying motion.“...Scared of me?”





	don't hold this war inside

**Author's Note:**

> Is this canon? No, but guess what lads! I can headcanon whatever the hell I want, which means that if I want to self project onto Yaz, I right well can! There should be more ace rep all around 
> 
> Title from ‘Come Back When You Can’ by Barcelona;

Standing in the TARDIS console room, Yaz smiles fondly after the Doctor. She’s doing a spectacularly bad job of piloting today, whirling around the room with her coattails flapping, and she keeps sneaking blatant looks at Yaz that Yaz suspects are supposed to be subtle.

“Have you sorted it, Doctor?” Yaz calls out, watching as she kicks up a leg to flip a lever, and the Doctor huffs, now bent over with both hands planted on the console. 

“She won’t let me land her!” the Doctor exclaims crossly, glaring at the time rotor, “The TARDIS has decided to be extremely annoying today, and I haven’t the faintest idea why.”

The TARDIS whirs loudly, beeping at her a couple times in a way that almost sounds reproachful, and Yaz watches in amusement as the Doctor gasps and then narrows her eyes.

“No, I will not – Oi! Don’t tell me what to do!” There’s an aggressive flashing of lights along with another alarming tilt to the ship that seems to dislodge the Doctor a lot more than it does Yaz. “I will not – No! I will _not_ be telling her anything – ” 

Yaz laughs, content to hang on for the ride, and this goes on for several minutes longer before the Doctor finally gives in, yelling “Alright! Alright, I’ll do it!”

The effect is immediate, the ship leveling off and going silent, and it startles another laugh out of Yaz when the Doctor ends up sprawled over the console.

“See if I readjust your tessadra drive now,” the Doctor grumbles, standing and straightening her jacket, and the TARDIS beeps once in a way that sounds exceptionally smug before popping out a custard cream for her. The Doctor eyes it crossly before snatching it up and stuffing it in her mouth. “This doesn’t mean I’m ignoring what you’ve taken upon yourself to do.” 

“What was that all about?” Yaz says, stifling a laugh as she skims a hand over the console and steps closer to the Doctor, and the Doctor blows out a resigned sigh. She spins to face Yaz and then leans forward on her toes, intense thinking face on, and Yaz watches as she ruffles her already messy hair and twists her lips unsurely.

“Yaz… Can I kiss you right now?”

The second Yaz realizes what she’s saying, she lets out a gasp and reels backwards, tripping over her own heel and immediately feeling the urge to run and hide, so different from her usual instincts.

The Doctor looks confused, a little furrow appearing between her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything, only giving Yaz a gentle smile and an awkward gesture that’s a cross between a wave and a fist pump. She hops over to the TARDIS console again, fiddling with a few of the switches, and Yaz opens her mouth to call after her, chest twisting with the need to explain herself, but nothing comes out.

Trailing after her, Yaz twists her hands together and tries to stop herself from cracking her knuckles. “Sorry,” she gets out, and the Doctor’s head snaps around towards her so violently that she almost jumps back in surprise.

“Sorry?” the Doctor repeats shrilly, “No, not sorry! Yaz has absolutely nothing to be sorry about, nothing at all. _I’m_ the one who’s sorry, Yaz, I shouldn’t have…”

Yaz shakes her head, and then keeps shaking it, not wanting to hear the Doctor apologize when she’s done nothing wrong.

“It’s just – I’m scared,” she finally manages, voice quavering in a way that is almost enough to bring tears to her eyes just by the sound of it. If she can be honest with anyone, she can be honest with the Doctor.

“Scared?” the Doctor stills. Her face immediately goes blank, a stark difference to her usual expressive self, and she pauses where she’s been trying to roll up the sleeves of her coat, shoving the material of one arm over her elbow and asking, “Scared of what?”

Yaz doesn’t answer, can’t answer, and the Doctor goes to reach for her, aborting the movement halfway and only managing an awkward swaying motion.

“…Scared of me?” 

And Yaz can tell that the words are supposed to be casual, nonchalant and unremarkable in form, but either the Doctor’s getting worse at concealing these things or Yaz is getting better at seeing them, because it doesn’t fool her for a second.

“No!” Her face is crumbling, her hands shaking where she’s gripped her own forearms, “No, no, not scared of you, not you, it’s – I’m scared of… of _you_.” She squeezes her eyes shut helplessly and knows that she needs to explain better, and fast. “Scared of – of what you might want to do?”

The Doctor’s eyes widen and she stiffens even further, and Yaz yelps with her hand out beseechingly. “No, no! Not like that, I’m sorry, I don’t mean it like that, just – ” she releases a frustrated breath, “I’m not scared of you, I promise. Afraid of several things, me, but you…”

The Doctor is safety. The Doctor is home, and goodness and light and strength and security. The Doctor is curiosity at its finest, bravery and brilliance and wonder in all its best forms. The Doctor is _kindness_ , compassion like she’s never seen. The Doctor… is the one she’s in love with.

The Doctor still doesn’t look like she understands what she’s trying to say, but at least the spark of panic is fading in her eyes, only being replaced by latent worry.

“I’m… going to disappoint you. If this is what you want. If I’m…” Yaz trails off, unsure of herself, and the Doctor draws her eyebrows together. 

“Please explain? I’m not following.”

“I’m scared about… what might happen,” Yaz begins carefully, trying to choose her words, “If the way you feel about me is anything close to the way I feel about you.”

The Doctor blinks at her, face still scrunched up as she tries to decipher what’s going on, and Yaz closes her eyes.

“I don’t – I don’t think I wanna kiss you,” she gets out in a rush, “Not kiss, or – or anything past that. Physically, I mean, I don’t – I don’t think – Well, not physically, I do like touching, just not… sexually.” She winces as she stumbles over the words, “And – And it’s not you! It’s not _you_ , it’s – it’s everyone, I don’t want to do anything with _anyone_ , I don’t – I mean, if I were to be – if I wanted to be _intimate_ , with anybody, I reckon it would be with you, yeah? I’ve never felt this much for anybody else, never, but I still don’t – ”

She’s stuttering now, heartbeat accelerating until she can feel her pulse in her ears and her breath starting to come faster, and the TARDIS console room begins to blur around her. “And, I _know_ it’s not normal, but I – I don’t know, I’ve never – ”

She sniffs once, feeling tears fill her eyes again as she wraps her arms around herself, and she tries to focus on the consistent motion of the time rotor to distract herself.

“Yaz,” the Doctor says, calmly stepping forward to put herself directly in front of Yaz and bending to meet her eyes, “Is it all touching you don’t want, or can I hug you right now? If you can’t talk, tap once for no and twice for yes.”

Without even thinking about it, Yaz taps her hand twice against her own shoulder, wanting nothing more in that moment than for the Doctor to hold her, and the Doctor sweeps her into her arms and pulls her tight, lifting one hand to cradle the back of Yaz's head.

Managing to suck in a shuddering breath, Yaz hides her head in her neck and squeezes her eyes shut. She can feel two heartbeats echoing against her own chest, steady and reassuring, and the Doctor doesn’t say a word until she’s calmed herself, breathing back at an acceptable rhythm.

“Sorry,” Yaz sniffs, voice thick, and the Doctor mumbles something under her breath in a language Yaz doesn’t understand. 

“You can be asexual, Yaz. It’s completely brilliant! Silly humans with all your ideas of sexuality,” she sighs, stroking her hand down Yaz’s back, “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you, Yaz, you hear me? Absolutely _nothing_. You’re perfect, proper magnificent, just the way you are.” The Doctor says it affectionately, smoothing down Yaz’s hair and smiling when Yaz pulls away enough that she can see her face. “And anything makes you the slightest bit uncomfortable, you tell me. You tell me straight away, and I’ll take care of it.”

There’s something steely underlying her tone, something in the set of her jaw and the look in her eyes that tells Yaz that she’s being completely serious, and Yaz feels like she wants to cry again, something like relief filling her chest.

“And… if you did… want to be with me…”

Yaz widens her eyes at the words, hitching her breath.

“Not – not sexually!” the Doctor hastens to add, eyes widening in alarm, “Just, in a relationship… I… I would be honoured.” 

“Are you… really? Even though I’m…” Yaz gets out, gaping at the Doctor, “You’re not having me on?”

The Doctor smiles gently and tucks some loose hair behind Yaz’s ear before cupping her cheek. “Never. Not about this.” 

The TARDIS lighting has shifted to something lighter and more golden than usual, casting an exceptional glow over everything, and Yaz stays silent as she absorbs her words before grinning shyly and ducking her head, nodding.

“Brilliant!” the Doctor jumps excitedly, pulling Yaz into another hug before stepping back and leaving her hands on Yaz’s shoulders. “So we’ll have a nice talk, you tell me what you want and need, it’ll be fantastic!”

“I… Thank you, Doctor,” Yaz says softly, not knowing what else to do, and the Doctor tilts her head to the side, giving her another one of her _looks_ , the same way she looks at every new wonder of the universe.

“Thank _you_ , Yaz.” She stays there, letting the words hang in the air, but then she perks up and breaks the silence. “Oh, is _this_ what your mum meant when she asked if we were seeing each other?”

The Doctor sounds so delighted to have figured it out that Yaz can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of her, wiping at her cheeks one more time before turning to her with a shaky smile. 

“Yeah, this – this is what she meant.” 

The Doctor beams, reaching out to slip her hand into Yaz’s, and the TARDIS chirps happily above them, causing the Doctor to huff and lift her head to the ceiling even as she pulls Yaz closer for a sideways hug.

Yaz leans against the Doctor’s shoulder as she listens to her argue with her ship and smiles, feeling more at ease than she can ever remember.

Her mum is going to have a field day.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, lots of talking it out later, but you’d best believe the Doctor’s going to eviscerate anybody who so much as looks at Yaz wrong


End file.
